


Fallout

by sian1359



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action/Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian1359/pseuds/sian1359
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secrets never stay hidden forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallout

**Author's Note:**

> For kajikia for the Atlantis Back to Basics Challenge/Fic Exchange. Takes place right after Epiphany. &gt; I didn't give my beta editor extraordinaire (Bonny) the time to do her job before I needed to post this for the challenge/exchange -- consider that to have been the 'preview showing' and now I'm ready for the opening weekend. All fixes are hers and any additional stupid changes mine.

**Now**

I'd long ago given up the idea of ever seeing my birthworld again. Sateda had managed to hold out longer than most worlds, but we'd all grown up knowing the Wraith would come and that all we'd hoped and achieved could be taken away in the sweep of a culling beam or from a hand slamming into your chest to suck away your lifeforce. When our turn had come I'd been prepared, and my only true regret had come from not having the opportunity to insure that the one who'd betrayed us had come to his own end.

Preferably by my hand.

Except I didn't die either. Instead, I was violated and altered, stripped of everything I had known and desired, and then set loose. Not out of compassion, but for sport and as a means to train Wraith drones in the ways of the hunt. Instead of stealing my years and my life, they took away my world and my humanity. My needs became simple: weapons, food, shelter. Survival so that I could kill as many Wraith as I could manage before my luck and blood ran dry.

Except neither did. Instead, I survived for seven years as a Runner. I survived by honing my skills and my hatreds. I survived until my own reputation was as fearsome to the Wraith as theirs had been to my people. I survived until I became the hunter.

I no longer had any history or friends, but also no obligations or responsibilities. I had only purpose. Eventually I no longer even dreamt of returning to the life I had known -- or of finding a new one. I lived in the moment. _For_ the moment. My sole reason to continue was a perverse game of hide and seek, fueled by ego and vengeance; the need only to outlast those who came after me and to teach them to regret that they had ever found me.

In this I found a sort of contentment.

Until _I_ was found by somebody other than the Wraith; found by those who would come to live in the long abandoned City of the Ancestors. Suddenly I was given hope again. Hope and a home. A future. In exchange I was only expected to interact, to become human again. Making a place with them wasn't comfortable, but neither was it all that difficult. The Lanteans were friendly, probably too trusting, but I had begun to find my way again.

In exchange, all I had to do was care.

 

**Two Days Ago**

"Thank you for joining us."

Weir's strange. She says something like that every single damn time. As if my coming to her meetings was something special. As if it wasn't expected. Not mandatory, no, because even Sheppard doesn't really give _orders_ despite being the Military Commander of the Atlantis Base and so my commander -- my new Task Master.

_Despite there only being four on the squad, despite our squad being called an offworld gate-team -- despite Sheppard being nothing like Kell. _

I nod, first to show Weir the proper respect, and then again to the others who have stayed after their larger meeting. Any time a team is considering going through the Gate of the Ancestors to a new planet, Teyla and I get invited to participate in the mission planning even when it's not our team that is scheduled. Teyla and I are their native guides and, while the Lanteans don't understand a lot of things about how life is here in the Pegasus Galaxy, they do know enough to realize the technological advances they brought with them won't always be enough.

I'm still learning just how different the place where the Lanteans came from is. Not just their technology, but their governments, religions, even the way they think. Especially the way their military thinks. In some ways they are entirely too lenient, allowing the other Squad Masters to question orders and try to refuse their duty. At first I thought it was Sheppard's fault, and had wondered what I was doing staying on here. He gives orders rarely and when he does, he makes it sound like suggestions, or even worse, a plea. There are no harsh demands, no absolute discipline, and the boundaries between ranks seem to exist only when someone remembers.

Except I have also seen the soldiers do _listen_ to Sheppard, the way they hear all the things not being said. The way _they_ see a man who asks nothing of them that he would not and has not done himself. Sheppard has earned their respect and their loyalty by ways that have nothing to do with his rank of command over them. Sheppard is squadmate as well as Squad Master … Task Master too, and even Battle Master when Caldwell isn't around.

_On Sateda, ranking is everything. You are a soldier or civilian; protector or protected, and all else is subdivided into specializations. Your path is fixed as soon as you choose, your studies and training then fitted to your choice. Mistakes are made, and not everyone chooses wisely, but even then the rigid structure brings its own comfort by providing the framework and patterns of what is expected from you. You fail only when you don't try. _

Or when you betray your path.

I take the open seat next to McKay; it's still warm from one of those who have just left. Probably Zelenka, since he is McKay's second, or maybe Lorne because he's Sheppard's second. Teyla and McKay have taken the seats to either side of Sheppard, leaving no room for someone else to get close. Usually, McKay and Sheppard sit across from one another, in part to keep certain speculations from growing, but mainly so they can exchange eye rolls and crooked smiles when it is not their time to be serious.

This time, though, McKay's chair is even closer to Sheppard's than Teyla's is, although both have encroached on what Dr. Heightmeyer calls 'the accepted boundaries of personal space'. I might have worried, had I not shifted my own chair closer to McKay, only realizing I had done so and having a moment's concern after I'd already moved it.

We were all still feeling a little overprotective, and with the four of us now all right next to each other, Weir's alone on the other side of a table that can seat up to fifteen. She seems to understand -- at least what we're showing on the surface -- and if it bothers her to be treated like an instructor, she doesn't let it show.

I'm still not convinced Weir is really anything but a tolerated administrator. Or whether she can make the hard decisions the Law Makers must. But she's generally quiet, pretty to look at, and generally ignores me except during these briefings -- and during the weird Lantean social events.

_Soldiers don't interact very often with the leader -- not even the Specialists -- and never in a social setting. We and the Squad Masters report to the Task Masters, who in turn report to their Battle Masters. It is only the Battle Masters who need suffer the patronage of or interference from the Law Makers. _

"Carson has assured me that you've all been cleared for full active duty again, but if any of you still feel you need a little more time …" Weir gives a small shrug to her shoulders and at least has the grace to look a little embarrassed from what she's said. We'd been cleared -- all of us. I knew even McKay was getting anxious to be doing something other than playing with his ever-present laptop even when he was supposed to be engaging in downtime. Sheppard, Teyla and I are all active, physical people, especially when compared to McKay, but our soft scientist is the one who often has the worst time dealing with mandatory rest breaks or restricted duty.

"We've been cleared, and our team is still up since that last mission was … a bust." The comment came from Sheppard along with one of his easy grins, although this one didn't quite reach his eyes. His words were more reassurance than argument. Maybe a bit forced, but Weir either didn't notice or was again not letting her reaction show.

A 'bust'. I didn't get the reference, but understood the context and yeah, _busted_ sounded about right. By the end of the mission, the four of us had collectively incurred little more than a few physical bruises from the Unseen Beast -- the Creature of the Id as McKay had called it. Sheppard had been hurt worse in the beginning, I figured, but he hadn't actually said, and he'd had plenty of time to heal.

Which was the real problem.

Sheppard had had six months of time to get hurt, healed, and decide that he'd been abandoned. He understood now that his six months had been less than a day for us. But understanding and accepting were not the same thing. Just as the rest of us were dealing with guilt over something that had been completely out of our control. Team unity had been broken physically as well as mentally, and it was the emotional damage that had us grounded and stuck -- individually and all together -- with having to have Dr. Heightmeyer clear us for duty in addition to Beckett.

_I understood the importance of mind healers; soldiers had to be all manner of fit lest they become a danger to the mission or their squadmates. But the mind healers on Sateda understood it was those squadmates and not words that really put you together again. _

Weir nodded at Sheppard's expected response, keeping silent for another few seconds to allow someone else to add more (for McKay to complain). She then gave another brisk nod and stood to walk toward us and hand over some papers. "The linguists and historians have managed to come up with some new gate addresses in comparing the datalogs you retrieved from the _Aurora_ with the Ancient's database here in Atlantis."

We could have simply shared one or two of the sheets, as close as we'd ended up after moving our chairs next to one another.

"Not all of the names had corresponding gate addresses," she was continued as she made her way back to her chair. "So it's always possible that we've also picked up people names, or maybe even the names of more ships since we've not had a chance to translate all of the contextual words around the names."

Had I actually been able to read their language, it would have been nice for information beyond just a name and an address, but still Weir shouldn't have sounded so apologetic. Vague apologies weren't right for _any_ type of commander, especially not for something that had been the responsibility of the people she was supposed to be leading.

Then again, I suspected that even Kell would have been making excuses for incomplete or incorrect intel if someone like McKay had been there to review it.

No, actually Kell would have shot McKay the first time Atlantis' Chief Scientist had whined about or questioned any of the Task Master's mission specs. Not that McKay would have been allowed on a squad. Had we had someone as smart as McKay on Sateda he would have been spending his days teaching or conducting his research, not wasted in field work (except here, he wasn't wasted, he was essential and I still wasn't quite sure how -- why -- that worked).

On Sateda it would have been up to one of his seconds to advise the Law Makers and Battle Masters of what someone like McKay knew.

_The Scholar, the Technician and the Artist are the people most treasured on Sateda, for their knowledge and gifts are the most uncommon, and they are the ones who give our world its uniqueness. They are -- were -- the ones who preserved our past and created a future. The ones that gave reason beyond simply duty for the Soldier, the Merchant and the Administrator to protect, supply and govern. _

"Teyla, Ronon, I don't suppose either of you recognize any of them?"

Teyla has learned to read the Lantean's language better than I have, but then she's also had a year more to study it. Weir's list, though, had the names in her English, in Ancient, and in a phonetic pronunciation, in addition to the symbols of their gate addresses.

I thought I recognized a couple of the names, but I paused to let Teyla speak first. Only one of those three worlds would be a place where the Lanteans might find something worthwhile. But Comru is also a world I'd only been to twice during the earliest years after my initial learning, and thus was never in charge or responsible in keeping track of what had happened during our visits. All I really remembered was that it had been a place of as many dangers as it had had delights.

_Like the Genii, Sateda had once been the crown of an alliance of worlds; it's armies on call to render aid or vengeance for those who looked to our lead. As such it was part of the duty of every soldier to spend time off world, to grow accustom to the differences to be found in rule and law as well as in duty and desire. Comru played host and instructor to many a fledgling squad, just as the fleshpots there played host to many a fledgling soldier. _

I was old and experienced enough to navigate its temptations now -- assuming it was still the meeting ground for many worlds and peoples as it had once been, and further assuming it was still untouched by the Wraith. It had been a place of great trading and technology, a place I might have mentioned had I ever known its gate address in the first place after I'd learned that the Lanteans had started their mission here in Atlantis cut off from their world with no hope of returning or even making contact and so they continued to explore the possibilities of trade and allies.

Weir called it 'hedging their bets' against a time when the _Daedelus_ didn't arrive as expected; Sheppard, a prudent subterfuge since they didn't want anyone to know about the ship -- or that Atlantis had survived the recent Wraith siege. Continuing to trade for food and other common goods made sense even more for Teyla's people. Political machinations had come hand-in-hand on the _Daedelus_ with the resupplies and new people. Sheppard had already talked to Teyla and me about what might happen to us should the Lanteans be ordered to abandon Atlantis and the Pegasus Galaxy to return home.

Teyla shook her head after reviewing the list a couple of times. "I am sorry, Dr. Weir, but I recognize none of these names."

"If we're going to pick some random place for tomorrow's mission, maybe it shouldn't be one of the worlds the Ancients recommended?" McKay spoke up before I could offer a different response from Teyla's. "Surely we haven't checked out all the addresses we've collected from the daisy-chain of Athos to Hoff to Dagan to Thenora to Olesia to wherever they provided next? Okay, well maybe we don't want to visit any of _their _friends either -- well, the Athosian ones are okay, of course, but surely we still have a few worlds to explore were the people won't try to drug us or steal from us or feed us to the Wraith?"

Weir looked confused at McKay's opposition, but then her eyes shot to Sheppard and her face softened as she acknowledged McKay's roundabout reference to the opening parameters of our last mission, the address having come straight out of the Atlantis database. It was probably a good thing Sheppard was too busy scowling in McKay's direction and so missed that momentary display of sympathy from her. It was also probably a good thing Weir didn't do anything more other than restate her proposal.

Sheppard didn't like it when people thought he wasn't capable -- even if that concern was expressed as sympathy. And especially if it was pity.

"Rodney, you know the likelihood of our finding something useful is going to be much greater on the planets the Ancients regularly traveled between. It might not be another ZPM, but undoubtedly they had other ships like the _Aurora_, maybe even another city ship like Atlantis, complete with puddle jumpers and weapon drones. Replacing those are also a top priority."

"Like the Wraith would have ever let something like that survive," McKay scoffed.

"Unlike Atlantis and the _Aurora_, McKay?" Sheppard raised a brow. "You can't remember what you had for breakfast a couple of days ago and you're the smartest guy in two galaxies --"

"Hey!"

But Sheppard continued over McKay's indignation. "Don't you think it's possible that the Wraith lost track of a few of those thousand planets the Ancients once seeded? Not to mention that it looks like each Hive queen jealously hordes information on her own particular favorites. Hell, in the short time we've been here, _we've_ probably caused a couple of planets to drop off their radar because of the Hive ships we've taken out."

Their exchange sounded right, but I knew it was more for Weir's benefit than their typical enjoyment of … 'winding each other up' was how Sheppard had once explained it. Though we'd all been cleared to go off world, I knew none of us were completely back to normal despite the work we'd done to reconnect.

Fortunately, Sheppard's skill at showing people like Weir what they wanted --needed -- to see was the best I'd ever seen from someone who wasn't a politician. His current layers of masks were the usual ones: faint amusement and exasperation toward McKay; casual interest and anticipation for the pending mission for Teyla and me; and just the right amount of concern to show Weir that he understood and was ready to resume his position and responsibilities.

It wasn't like Weir _wanted_ to acknowledge that Sheppard wasn't okay with all that had happened. Sheppard was her hero -- fuck, he was everybody's hero here on Atlantis. While physical injury came with being a hero, vulnerabilities like doubts or emotional stress were flaws she better tolerated from someone like McKay.

She wasn't a bad leader, same as Heightmeyer and Beckett weren't bad doctors. But it was still deception even when lies by omission -- or being _willfully_ blind and accepting.

_I grew up on a world where lying was taboo. Where all betrayals were treason, for the sword that was a Wraith culling cut through family and future, and Satedan honor would be our only surviving legacy. Duty was our religion, trust our reward. The only masks that Sateda wore were for mummery and children's pantomimes. _

"I know this one," I finally admitted. "Comru. It's a neutral world welcoming to anyone who has something to trade: be it coin, goods or information. It's said you can find anything there if you can pay the price."

"And you've never mentioned this place before?" McKay blustered my direction, all thoughts of the potential dangers fading under the growing lust over the potential payoff.

"I only knew the name, never the gate address," I shrugged. "Went a couple of times when I was a kid. It was a training ground as much as a reward and I wasn't sober either time I came back." I wasn't embarrassed. I hadn't done anything wrong and shame, especially over something in my past, wasn't one of _my_ vulnerabilities.

I know most of the Lanteans don't really think I have any emotions other than hunger and blood lust, just like if I hadn't learned from their books or spoke very much, I couldn't be very smart. McKay and the team now knew better, but they still sometimes expected me to react as they would, and were surprised and bothered when I didn't. The surprise to me was that I was sometimes bothered by it too.

Not embarrassed, but …

"Even if there is a ZPM there, McKay, you're not going to want to know the price." Sheppard started to rein in McKay in response to the disconcerted look I'd shot their direction. Sheppard then shifted his attention more directly to me.

"When you say they'll trade anything --"

I nodded. "That includes people. They're not slavers directly in that they don't go looking or taking people randomly, but they will accept _anything_ that two people may agree upon the value of, and the more eager someone is to get something or to get rid of it, the higher the price. The only thing they won't do is trade with the Wraith."

"You said you went there as a kid," Weir interjected. "So it isn't particularly dangerous?"

"Every planet and people can be dangerous." I shrugged again, not quite sure how to explain, as I wasn't sure what she wanted to know. Somehow, I don't think our childhoods were anything like one another's. "But assuming the Wraith haven't culled there yet, it's probably a good place to check out now that we do know the address."

She was still looking a little uneasy, so I dredged up a little more. "I'd just seen fifteen years when I went the first time. I'd been chosen to a Squad and it was our time to celebrate. And to learn that life on other worlds could be different than life on Sateda. On Comru I had my first drink, my first woman, my first hangover --"

McKay began to sputter, he and Weir both turning pink. I didn't expect it was over getting drunk, not when I could also see what looked to be more like admiration from Sheppard along with his sudden grin, nor Teyla's more placid amusement that was belied by a twinkle in her eye.

Despite their boldness and ease during sex between the four of us, McKay and Sheppard never _talked_ about it. Not what they were involved in now, nor even much about past partners and relationships. McKay's explanations about why no one could know about Sheppard's involvement were stupid, but I'd understood that they were bound by duty and rule even though Sheppard never appeared quite as concerned about it as McKay. But I don't think that was why McKay was now looking embarrassed, nor did it explain Weir's reaction -- other than both of them were awfully damned repressed about enjoying matters of the flesh.

Good thing it had been Sheppard I'd gone to the first time. He'd given me no reason to believe that sex was different for them than it was for me -- or Teyla.

_On Sateda sex, love and family commitment can be three different relationships -- three or even more. Most sex is between squadmates if you are soldiers, and is more about comfort and basic needs. Family commitment is about procreation, alliances, protection and advancement. Sometimes you can find one person who can fulfill comfort as well as commitment, someone you might even love and hope to spend the rest of your life with. The obligations of offspring, however, are the highest duty on a world were the Wraith could come on any day. Except soldiers are no more suited to raising children than they are to participating in politics. A soldier looks to their parents to make or allow the commitment pairings, and leave the children and the politics to be looked after by those you must leave behind. This is the way, and no one will begrudge you for the comfort you find elsewhere. _

"Well then, I guess you have a go."

 

**Six Days Ago**

We've all been checked out by Beckett, relieved of duty by Weir, and had appointments scheduled to talk to Heightmeyer about what had just happened. I still don't talk much to _any_ of them, and so didn't see the point in my meeting with their mind healer one-on-one, but I have no problem being supportive for the others. McKay, Teyla and I all feel some guilt, but mostly I was feeling some residual anger at McKay for not letting me follow Sheppard through the veil. But I didn't need to tell that to _Heightmeyer_, and probably wouldn't even scare McKay with it.

Now with the understanding of what had happened, and knowing nothing McKay or anyone else could have done would have changed the outcome, most of my anger is gone. Except that which I reserved for the Ancestors in general for having created such a 'sanctuary' in the first place without placing proper warnings, and for the pretenders beyond who had as much held Sheppard with their unwillingness to defend themselves (or just live a real life) as the time dilation field had trapped him.

I also understand being left behind, though, and I knew Sheppard wasn't just going to get over it after a night's sleep back 'home' -- or from talking to the pretty blonde doctor. I figured it had actually been worse for Sheppard than it had been me. I and my squadmates really _had_ been betrayed by the one we'd trusted most. Whereas none of this had been McKay's fault, and so Sheppard would also being feeling guilt for thinking he'd been abandoned -- and for damn near giving in and being talked into trying to Ascend.

If only one of us had gone after him...

Or even threw in a fucking note along with the packs and rations once we'd figured out what was going on.

McKay was still berating himself for not providing a note even as he, Teyla and I waited for Sheppard to open the door. It might be too soon, but we were _already_ six months too late and none of us were going to let him be alone any longer. Ever Weir had hinted that she wanted to do something with Sheppard. Right up until Beckett had pulled her aside during our medical checks and simply gestured in our direction as we'd waited for Sheppard to come out of the exam room. Weir and Beckett and Heightmeyer, or Lorne or Zelenka or Cadman could have Sheppard tomorrow, but for tonight he _needed_ to be ours. So that he might understand that we were still here, and that he was still a part of us.

Everyone else called it 'team bonding'. And it was. Except no one else had the faintest clue of just how deep that bonding would be.

_My first experience with sex was during Instruction -- was part of my instruction. Sex was just one more thing to get familiar with and decide it we wanted to learn how to do it well. We each picked a partner with whom we then explored the sights, the smells and the reactions to the actions we'd already had explained. While we didn't keep track of our ages on Sateda as the Lanteans seem obsessed by, it was during my Secondaries, and so I'd seen at least thirteen 'years' of life. It was definitely after my body had begun to develop. And after I'd already been testing my own responses. I enjoyed coaxing them out of someone else a lot more. Having someone else take the responsibility of teasing them out of me was pretty amazing too. _

Our coming together hadn't happened the first time completely by accident; group sex _never_ happens by accident, especially when two of the four are already in a sexual relationship. But when I'd gone to Sheppard that night, maybe three months after I'd agreed to stay on Atlantis, I'd only been hoping to find some small measure of comfort and reassurance that I hadn't made a mistake and misjudged him or my agreement to join his gate team. My new squad.

The mission we'd just completed on a planet not even Teyla had known the name of (and now there was no one left to tell us), had brought once more to the forefront all of the rawness I still felt about Kell. It wasn't that I doubted my actions when I'd killed my former Task Master, but it had got me wondering just the same as to what I was thinking in trying to find a new one. Thanks to Sheppard and the other Lanteans, I didn't have to run any more, but that also didn't mean I had to stay.

The Wraith had gotten to the planet the Lanteans had designated P7X-224 no more than a couple of days before us. All had been destroyed, as Sateda had been destroyed. There had been bodies as well as husks, bodies that showed violence beyond death by a Wraith's hand. We could tell that some of the wounds had been self-inflicted; such utter despair during a culling wasn't common but I'd run across it during my years as a Runner (generally only afterward, although once I'd actually been there during the culling to see those who gave up and took their own lives instead of fighting to their last breath). More unsettling had been the bodies of the children, slain by their own parents' hands. Gruesome and heart-wrenching, yes, but still preferable to having the children taken, or seeing them sucked dry.

I hadn't heard about Sumner at that point, but even McKay seemed to understand the concept of a mercy killing.

But then we'd found the other bodies. Their wounds had not been self-inflicted, or done out of mercy. They'd been shot in the leg or a shoulder, just something to slow them down and make them more vulnerable to the Wraith. Indeed, some had been drained and left, and I've no doubt that others had been taken by the darts to a Hive Ship to be healed and then preserved for later feedings. Others, though, had simply bled out, their death and pain all the worse because it had come from those they had trusted and maybe known.

It was Kell's betrayal all over again.

After our return, after the mission debriefing and the medical, after dinner and an attempt to wind down that only involved losing control and injuring some of Sheppard's marines, I'd finally gone to bed. Only to find sleep elusive and filled with the interweaving images of the day and of Sateda's end when I did close my eyes.

Desperately I'd tried to call up other memories of Sateda. Of my squad, of my mates outside of Kell, of all the things they had been and still represented.

I'd been military longer than I'd been a runner. I knew all about the chain of command, and how harassment or favoritism could wreak a battle plan, not to mention morale. But those were all things _outside_ the squad. Civilians never understood how we -- how it could be different: how it didn't matter if you were fighting _or_ fucking, that the trust between squadmates was absolute and included everything; how when the weapons were firing or the darts swooping, your mates had your back even when you weren't talking to one another because someone had done some stupid thing, or because two of you knew sparring was the best foreplay. Anger, jealousy, fear -- those were all words to describe _other_ people, all emotions you might apply to your commitment paring but even then, if you understood your duty and obligations, such emotions _couldn't_ be sustained.

I understood that in the field someone had to make the final decisions, but even Kell had deferred to me when it came to tracking and general survival, and would have allowed that Teyla was better in most matters of first contact and diplomacy. Or that even McKay was the one to direct things when it was something Ancient or technical. Sheppard got that, as well as understanding that the three of us weren't following him because someone else told us he was our leader.

Of course, as far as I could tell, ours was the only true squad on Atlantis. The others all being comprised of just bosses and followers, with maybe a civilian thrown in who usually had no business going off-world, much less calling themselves part of a team. I didn't like going out with any of the other gate teams. Not even Lorne's, which I supposed might come close to what they should be at some point in the future (assuming they all lived that long), nor especially Stackhouse's, because it was obvious that anything they might have once had had fallen prey to the Wraith and their siege of Atlantis before I'd arrived. I would always be as much of an outsider to those 'mates as they were to mine.

On that night I felt heart-sick and lonelier than I had for the seven years I'd been on the run. In those first days after I'd agreed to stay, Sheppard had more than once said that I could come to him with and for _any_thing. If I was to survive here, I needed to find out if _his_ way was the same as Kell's.

Sheppard didn't say anything when I showed up at his door in the middle of the night; he just looked at me, nodded once, and then let me hold and rub off against him before he peeled us out of the bedclothes I'd made a mess over. He then fucked me, as hard and all-consuming as Kell ever had, yet instead of from the coldness and remove of a Task Master, it was with the care and affection of a squadmate.

The only sounds we made were involuntary, but this, like most things between us didn't need words. In truth I could only hang on and silently howl into his shoulder lest I sob out words neither of us should hear.

Whether we both fell asleep after he'd cleaned us up or just me, when I awoke a couple of hours later we were both still naked, but McKay and Teyla had joined us. They were sitting on the floor to either side of the bed extending out toward the center of the room, leaning against it as in my sprawl across it (my head resting in Sheppard's lap and against his stomach), there was no room for them to join us. The low murmurs of their conversation were as comforting as the hand resting against the back of the my head (Sheppard's), the one gently kneading my right shoulder (Teyla's), and the one more or less petting my left calf which had to be McKay's.

It was only a few days later that I learned that I should have been surprised at Sheppard's acceptance and understanding -- that he should have been upset and sent me away from the very beginning. That when Sheppard had first said I could come to him for anything, he hadn't meant _this_.

Not Kell's truths or Sheppard's. Just my own. Truths important enough to him -- to them -- to make true.

_On the night of First Markings, new squadmates were expected to come together to learn of one another. On that night, we were informed that we would be leaving for Comru within the next tenday and so the initial plans of drink and noisy commemoration were set aside for better, if later, opportunity. Instead, we celebrated quietly after the ink that proclaimed my squad's name was beaded in our flesh. We told each other of backgrounds and families, of plans and hopes and boast-dreams. We recited the oaths not of duty to the Task Masters and to Sateda, but made the pledges of loyalty to each other and to self. We'd all explored bodies and parts before, and even here I was familiar with three or four of them from my earlier instruction. This night was different, however. These were the nine most important people in my life, the ones now entrusted with my life. It was only right to also entrust them with my body. The sex play that followed wasn't clinical, nor was the point to have fun. What it turned out to be was _reverent.

I was glad when afterward McKay, out of his worry that I might say or do something that might not only get Sheppard sent home, but also might get me kicked out of Atlantis, ranted about Lantean taboos and their stupid rules. I appreciated his concern, especially on Sheppard's behalf, as ending his life as a soldier would have been a careless way to pay back the man who had given me back _my_ life.

For a moment I wondered whether they had had this with Ford; I didn't want to think that this was the real reason behind Sheppard's unwillingness to write off the missing man because _leave no one behind_ seemed so much more than just lust or loyalty to him. (The answer had been no, although Teyla and he had, just as McKay and Sheppard had also been together for months). I didn't ask, though, was only been grateful that some things, that comfort would be given and could be taken despite any other relationships they might be or been involved in, seemed universal -- even when apparently they were not.

Then I didn't yet know about 'don't ask/don't tell'; about homophobia or that anything involving more than two people was considered _perverted_. Then I only knew to acknowledge the closeness and importance of the other two, and draw them into the connection that Sheppard had given me with his understanding and absolution. That night I found only compassion and kindness (Teyla), and friendship and encouragement (McKay). That night I'd come home.

Now Sheppard and I run and spar together most days, just as he and I practice stick-fighting with Teyla, and he and I try to keep McKay and his scientists alive by making them keep up with self-defense and weapons training. Sheppard also regularly flies Teyla over to the mainland so she can spend time with her people (or to give me and her a chance to escape the confinement of Atlantis, even if he does think he's doing it so Teyla and I can have sex -- which we do… a lot). Sheppard spends more time hanging around McKay in the labs (although I figure that's more to bother and wind McKay up than to actually be helping in the research -- and I figured out that that was their version of foreplay within the first week of my arrival). In addition to sexplay, Teyla and I are trying to learn their written language and how to use their tech. Even though we are closer than family, that was one of the things we learned we _can't_ do together -- McKay doesn't have the patience to teach anyone anything, and Sheppard doesn't have the patience to sit and be still unless he's on guard duty or watching his weird shows in a box.

But for the four of us together, there are generally only mission briefings and some meals, plus something once a week _just_ for ourselves when there is time between our duties. Sometimes it's watching one of those weird movies, because they are interesting and often funny even if Teyla and I aren't laughing at the same things, and even though neither of us can spend more than a couple of hours just sitting and watching something transmitted across a box. Sometimes it's games; the simple ones from Sheppard's world with cards and marbles that allow all four of us to play and where winning is either straightforward or a matter of personal skills and not dependent upon someone's cultural background.

I've tried to teach them a couple of games from Sateda, but it's hard to recreate the pieces and remember all of the rules, and most of the ones I learned there involve physical activity anyway. We've even done the sex thing for fun a couple more times, but 'team bonding night' usually means Sheppard and/or McKay are still on call if there's an emergency, and Weir doesn't like it when one of them has locked the door, even as she understands that no one else is welcome to join us no matter what we're doing unless specifically invited.

Even so, there have been a few more nights that we've gotten together when no one was on call: after Sheppard stopped being a bug and after the rest of us got through withdrawal; after Teyla discovered the serious of Charin's illness and after McKay and I had gotten caught in that landslide. Always after a near death, great fear and even in celebration; because those are the times no one will question our closeness or our need to find comfort in the presence of each other.

Now it was Sheppard's turn again.

My hands are full of food from the messhall, while McKay holds the wine and his computer, although only we four know that it's for the music he's got stored within it and not for some sort of note-taking or work.

Our team is grounded until Weir, Beckett _and_ Heightmeyer are all confident that we're okay, and it's two days of complete downtime before McKay or Sheppard can resume light duty pending that eventual okay and approval to return to full duties. Beckett's holding out for a full week, but I don't see Weir being able to handle them out of things for that long even if either man would let her. Not with the _Daedelus_ and Caldwell not scheduled to return for almost two full months.

Sure, if there were real, physical injuries that were preventing either from doing their jobs, Weir would find a way to manage with their Seconds, and with McKay or Sheppard's advise, but for just stress …

_All_ Lanteans are under stress just living here every day. And the Wraith don't allow breaks for downtime.

We've kept Teyla's hands free, just in case she needs to take the stuff from McKay so he can override Sheppard's door, but it opens before we have to wait too long, and having her hands free means she can go to him immediately when the door closes and locks behind us.

_My first woman was nothing like Teyla, but exactly the same in all the ways that counted. She was soft and warm and smelled a little like home, but a lot like something wild and exotic. She showed me pleasures I had never thought to want and taught my body responses that even now can make me blush. Sex-play with men can be casual or intense, is comfortable and familiar because the understanding and similarities are fundamental. Sex-play with women is a religion in and of itself. _

Sheppard has already removed the beard, which is too bad because shaving him might have been a good starting point to our reconnecting. Teyla, however, rarely needs something specific to focus on to get any of us to relax. Nothing other than offering her strong, warm embrace, which Sheppard now wraps himself up within as McKay and I unencumbered ourselves. The simple clothes the Others had given him are half-in and half-out of the waste basket next to his desk -- one of us should probably gather them together and turn them over to Halling or someone else on the mainland to be reused since they are of good weave and wear, and nothing like that should be thrown away despite the memories associated with them.

Even though Sheppard has to know that we would come, he looks surprised -- and grateful -- and it disturbs as well as pleases me just a little that he never counts on this. He has also gotten dressed again after the obvious shower; his hair is damp under my fingers as I move to join Teyla in providing touch comfort to the edge of flesh between hair and collar. McKay's moving instead toward the bed that's already been disturbed; we'd taken long enough for Sheppard to have curled up under at least the top blanket though I doubt he'd fallen asleep.

Sheppard's always colder than the rest of us, although he never complains like McKay does. That's an easy thing to remedy, just like an empty stomach or at least replacing the alien tastes he's had to endure for six months.

We'll use the bed because is the only place big enough for the four of us other than the floor -- which is yet another cause for complaint by McKay, but not tonight. Since the first (and only) time the four of us came together in here, the bed has been moved into the corner nearest the balcony to the outside, giving us all a wall to support our backs and have our feet spread out before us. Teyla draws Sheppard to sit next to McKay, then arranges me next to Sheppard, while she then brings over and hands each of us one of the plates McKay and Beckett had arranged from the cooks. The plates are each filled with different things, meant to be shared and passed around instead of one separate for each of us, all filled with favorite things that are easy to eat with fingers and at room temperatures because that is something important to the rest of them. While I will and have eaten whatever and however many a time, I have also allowed myself to be domesticated again in some manners and style, as well as being known to admit that I prefer eating things that taste good instead of eating for fuel.

Sheppard takes one, but doesn't reach for anything from it, nor from one of the others and simply holds it in his lap for our convenience as he lets his head fall back and closes his eyes.

I guess it's not food he is most hungry for.

"I had sex with Teer."

Teyla and I both stay silent; this is not being said to us, as it doesn't matter in our minds. It is only understandable, given that Sheppard had thought himself alone and imprisoned there for the rest of his life. McKay's immediate action is to draw in his breath, but then he only nods and reaches to take the plate away from Sheppard when it's obvious there will be little eating done right now. He hands it and the one he'd received back to Telya before enclosing one of Sheppard's hands into his own. I quickly slide off the bed and help her cover and replace everything onto the tray I'd placed on Sheppard's desk so that we might enjoy the food later. _Good_ food, especially, should never be wasted either.

McKay, having claimed his usual spot on the bed closest to the corner between the two walls (for his 'bad' back), is drawing Sheppard down to lean against his shoulder. "Of course you did," he was saying. "It's in the handbook, after all. She was Ancient and Ascended more or less. What's not to be attracted to?"

Teyla and I exchange glances. She'd told me all about Chaya, a visitor who had come between Sheppard and McKay's friendship months before I'd been brought to Atlantis. The woman, who'd turned out to be an outcast Ancient (ascended but forced to live out her immortality trapped on our mortal plane), and who had been the catalyst behind the two of them becoming lovers. Even so, Sheppard still flirts with anything that talks, with no more thought about doing it than he gives to breathing. McKay knows this and most of the time he deals with it in a similar manner to now -- deriding Sheppard with sharp words but little bite. Sheppard flirts with anyone and McKay pretends to show interest in women like Katie Brown or his mythical Samantha Carter. Not out of true jealousy I'd decided before tonight (because neither have shown the least hesitancy of including Teyla or myself in their relationship), but because neither of them can actually come out and admit or show their feeling for one another outside of Teyla's or my company.

I don't understand the basis for their rule, but I do understand its importance in _being _a rule. It will come out eventually anyway -- secrets always do. But until then I will keep their secret to myself with the same care I take in all of my dealings with them.

McKay grabs tighter hold of their entwined hands when Sheppard stiffens and moves to pull away. For an instant I am tempted to gather Teyla and leave, whether we would then go to my room or not. But she's already on the move, loosening the ties that bind her top across her breasts, although she doesn't remove the cloth completely while she climbs up on the bed to straddle Sheppard.

"We are glad that you found comfort there, John," she says softly as she is reaching for his hands and lifting them up to the wondrously soft skin that can now be accessed. "We are hoping that you will again take comfort from us now."

I don't care how much a man likes cock -- or how good a lay this Teer might have been. If he's alive with any sort of sex drive at all, he simply cannot ignore Teyla's breasts. And however much he might feel at the moment or have wished differently, Sheppard is definitely still alive. He makes a noise that sounds more like a sob than the groan he was more likely going for, and falls into her embrace again.

McKay is the one moving with them this time, bracketing Sheppard from behind as he's leaned away from the wall, and it's to McKay's ears that Sheppard's offering broken whispers of the fears he's had to keep within for too long in between the quick, soft kisses he's bestowing on Teyla. The three of them huddle together in a clutch of apologies and forgiveness, and my own heart clutches. I join them although I remain standing, one hand going to crush Sheppard's against Teyla's breast while I use the other to grip Sheppard's hair and force his head back so I can silence him from saying more unnecessary things. This gives McKay free access to Teyla's mouth and for a moment we hold as we are until hands move and hips twist and our lips come together in different combinations, until each of us taste and are tasted in return in all the combinations possible between us.

I can do sex comfort slow and gentle, and when it's McKay or Teyla who becomes our center focus that is how it starts and plays out, although there is always an intensity and passion that keeps our connection thriving and vital. But if it's Sheppard or me with the greatest need, gentleness is usually left by the wayside quickly, and tonight is no different.

Clothing is pulled and torn, until we are all mostly naked, at least in all the places that really matter. During the frenzy of touches and nips, of bites and wet, sloppy kisses that leave flesh aching and quivering, Sheppard has been stretched out along the full length of the bed. Teyla is this time kneeling across his ribs and is facing his cock, although it is my mouth that is bringing it stiff and upright. She is holding Sheppard's legs up and apart, while he's lifting up and supporting her hips, spreading her as she's spreading him. With one more little tug Sheppard pulls her back just enough to plunge his tongue into her and start bringing out her juices.

Teyla's breasts are rubbing back and forth against my shoulder. She's overbalanced, being held up instead of supporting herself, but she is eager and flexible enough to reengage with McKay lips even as he thrusts two coated fingers into Sheppard. Sheppard tries to thrust up, but Teyla's body is holding his chest down while McKay and I both hold down his hips. After another minute of attention, Sheppard and Teyla both orgasm with little more stimulation, and I decide Teer must not have been very good after all as Sheppard is still hard when I pull away and take Teyla's place against McKay's mouth so I can share with him Sheppard's taste.

McKay's fingers go from two to four, just as much keeping Sheppard stimulated as McKay is still preparing him. When Sheppard bucks again with a moan that is part pain and much more need, I first guide one of the thin sheaths of 'protection' over his rigid cock, and then Teyla. The added barrier in addition to having gotten off so quickly should have him able to let Teyla ride him for a long time before he is spent, perhaps even being able to equal my record for the number of climaxes I've given her in one coupling.

I'm hard from going down on him, from hearing and smelling our rising lust, and from the sheer pleasure and contentment of our closeness. Once I am sure that Teyla is seated and can maintain her own balance and momentum, I give a tug to McKay and pull him away from Sheppard. McKay isn't completely erect yet, but his cock grows fuller with a few knowing tugs from my fingers, and then from Sheppard's mouth as I help McKay kneel over Sheppard's shoulders. This leaves Sheppard's ass for me and I waste little time in raising his legs up again.

Even in this position I still tower over Teyla. With a strength that is really the equal to any of us given her size, she's latched hold of my hair and pulls my face down to hers even as I breach Sheppard's body in one quick, near brutal thrust that has him groaning around McKay's cock. Sheppard's knees drop over my arms as my hands reach and begin kneading and pulling on Teyla's magnificent breasts in time to my hip's movements. We're supporting each other, my thrusts into Sheppard directing his thrusts into Teyla, while McKay matches our rhythm at the other end.

We go slow and let everything build, sounds being muffled by tongues and cocks except for McKay's, but in this he is blessedly silent save for deep gasps and then more rapid pants. In most of the weird movies they and the _Daedelus_ have brought with them, all of the couples engaged in sex play finish with screeches of each other's names on their lips, and maybe McKay and Sheppard do that when they're alone, but with the four of us we need nothing more than the tastes and smells and touches of one another to know who we are with and what this all means. Comfort, and yes love, for each other and for us all, as deep as any family, and something that will last longer after sex play stays divided or goes away altogether.

 

**Eight Hours Ago**

We've split into pairs again. Not a wise idea on Comru, but still a necessity as indeed the Wraith have not yet found their way here and the main city is more alive and thriving than it had been even during the days of my youth. Many peoples have found their way here, as refugees as well as traders. More survivors from Sateda, whom I have not yet checked out, and while maybe no Athosians, there are some from planets that Teyla knows even in not knowing of Comru herself. There is also a veritable banquet of trade goods, not just food stuffs and necessities such as clothing and home goods, but things of beauty and art created just for the sheer pleasure of being able to do so. And there is technology, some evident in the few buildings that surround many, many more open areas of tents or simply blankets spread across the ground to protect the product. Tech is also offered for sale within the trading grounds themselves. Much of it looks to be broken or incomplete, most of it also just small objects or bits and pieces that may or may not be useful. Yeah, maybe it would have been better to have paired differently so that both of us had someone who could simply wave a hand and identify items that had once belong to the Ancestors, but Teyla or I would recognize a ZPM amidst even this clutter. Anything else, well, Weir could send a dozen teams comprised of those who had the blood of the Ancients and undoubtedly we would still miss finding all of the things of interest for the sheer volume.

As Teyla and I wander, I cannot help but be reminded of my other two times here. There are many more who offer sex play in trade now than before, perhaps because for some that is the _only_ thing that they have to offer. I am uninterested of course, as no doubt we all are, but it is from one of those young men that I learned there were others from Sateda here, when he identified my rank and squad markings. This time I am uneasy to learn of more of my people, and Teyla shares in that unease, or maybe it is just because we have also found people dressed the uniforms of the Genii, and others who have even taken to dress like the Wraith.

I don't believe that those last people are actually some of those who have taken to worshipping and serving the Wraith; Comru's continued existence is only guaranteed by the singular agreement of all who venture here to keep its location hidden. And for whatever else it might be or represent, Wraith clothing is well made and durable, and there are always people whose needs are great enough to overcome all manner of revulsions. It was still disquieting, and makes the skin between my shoulder blades itch.

Despite all of the potential spread out in front of me, despite the possibility of not only meeting others from Sateda, but maybe even someone I know, I want only to turn around and return home.

Although neither Teyla nor I wore any of the time-keepers most of the Lanteans did, we were both adept at reading sun positions. It was nearly time to check in again, not just with Sheppard and McKay, but with Weir and Atlantis, which meant a trip back to the 'gate for one of our pairings. Sheppard had decided not to bring a ship despite the 'gate being a good hour's walk; even a cloaked jumper could be found and this was one world were there was the likelihood of someone recognizing it for what it was -- of possibly even being able to use it due to their own bloodlines. If nothing else, there would be people who could find use for the metals and wiring should it be found and then taken apart for salvage. Yes, the only major laws on Comru dealt with theft, but given the sheer number of people passing through or living here, there would be someone desperate or with avarice enough to think the risks would be worth it.

I moved my hand to click on my radio transceiver to volunteer Teyla and myself to return to the gate since we aren't involved in anything pressing, only to be beaten to it by Sheppard first. Only it wasn't Sheppard's voice we heard first, just the end of a distant shout, a quick intake of breath and a muted interrogative of his name from somewhere beyond, that had to be from McKay.

"Just keep walking, Rodney," we then heard in a steady but low murmur.

The shout from beyond them was repeated, and this time we could make out the nature of the call, as well as the accusation.

"Lanteans, stop!"

If those two were anywhere like Teyla and I were, they'd be surrounded by people. Unfortunately the Lantean uniforms were even more distinctive than the Genii's, and stood out just as much as the Wraith's did by the obvious difference in how they were made compared to the typical clothing we of the Pegasus Galaxy wore. The Lanteans had also made quite the name for themselves, and not just with people like the Genii; you really couldn't trade with people who couldn't trust you, not to mention identify you, even if you never did let them see your home. So being so publicly identified would mean Sheppard and McKay couldn't lose themselves within the crowd.

"Ronon, Teyla, you're getting this --"

"Lantean!" The cry was strident, and closer toward Sheppard's mike. I had no difficulty picturing what was happening in my mind's eye from the sounds we were picking up: McKay's more rapid breathing wasn't interspersed with panting and so they weren't running, had probably even now stopped.

"Give us landmarks to find --"

But my own words were cut off by Sheppard. His "Fuck!" came through much louder than any of his other words, as did something that sounded like a cut off shout of panic from McKay, only for both of them to then be drowned out by what was obviously a single weapon's shot. Another stuttered intake of breath and then the sounds of bodies falling and screams or shouts that came from the crowd.

Teyla and I exchanged frantic glances. We had a basic idea of the area Sheppard and McKay were searching, but that was still a lot of ground to cover, and so far the confused noises were only reaching us over our communications devices instead of also from somewhere off in the direction we were running toward.

McKay's strident voice suddenly cut through the riot of noise. "What the fuck!" he screamed, causing me to wince at the shrillness cutting through my ear as well as the unveiled panic fueling it. "You shot him! You fucking shot him and we don't even know you --"

While we could hear ragged panting in addition to McKay's words and thereby determined Sheppard was still alive, the fact that he wasn't making any noise to try and calm or back McKay up, spoke of a seriousness to the wound that could just as easily mean Sheppard's living state was only temporary. Which meant McKay's was also likely --

"As Specialist Dex killed my Task Master, it is my right to kill his," came from the voice that had started this nightmare.

I froze, both in step and in breath, until a violent pull from Teyla got me moving again. I had told Sheppard and McKay about Kell during that first night we had all joined with each other, confessed even to killing him. While I knew that it wouldn't have been something even Sheppard would have done himself, the only recrimination I received for my actions was for involving Teyla. The incident had never been mentioned to Weir or Caldwell; it was just one more secret between the four of us, and I had figured that to be the end of it outside of my nightmares.

I had forgotten that secrets _never_ stayed as such.

"Oh, so if it's eye for an eye, it's okay then?" McKay's voice rose again, this time with a measure of sarcasm and anger that both Teyla and I took relief in. It was still too damn likely McKay was going to get himself into trouble, but it sounded as if his blinding panic was giving way to an impressive fury, and I knew of no one who might be better able to think or talk himself out of being shot too -- as long as he was thinking.

"So, because you shot my best friend, I can shoot yours, right?"

Or maybe not.

"It is my right." This time there was more of a whine to the Satedan's response than righteousness, and I couldn't help but think that my one-time squadmate had to have been very young at the time of the culling. That left his identity to be but from a handful although the voice was from no one I recognized from hearing it.

What I could recognize, however, was a stream of people that seemed to be moving away with almost the same amount of determination Teyla and I showed in traveling toward. We were obviously getting close.

"Yes, and by your insane logic, it's now my right to shoot one of your companions. And then the other will shoot me, one of my friends shoots him and tell me, Mr. _Mensa_ Brain Trust, where the fuck does it end?"

A sound, suspiciously like a choked-off laugh told us that Sheppard was still aware, and I found myself breathing a little easier. Hurt then, but not as out of it as first thought, although I had to think that McKay didn't yet realize for how he was bravely ranting. Sheppard still had his back until we got there.

My optimism was suddenly shattered by a set of whistles that I could now hear both from the radio and from our general surroundings. I hadn't really been able to explain the laws of Comru to Weir's satisfaction. Standard things like killing and stealing weren't good ideas, of course, but the closest thing the planet had to a central government was a handful of the most powerful and permanent merchants, who sponsored a security force that no one went up against. Those forces were equipped with a manufactured whistle that warned of approach and -- against running away by perpetrator, victim or witness. Teyla and I continued forward, now unimpeded, as all those within earshot who'd been fleeing the scene suddenly stopped.

Theft was the highest crime on Comru, followed then by fraud, but shooting someone -- killing someone -- could be considered a theft of livelihood or years.

The whistles now were sharp enough that I wanted to pull off my headset from the pain-inducing echo. We were there, and so were the security guards. I made myself re-holster the gun I'd pulled when we'd first started running. The Guard didn't have a reputation of shooting first, but if they did, no one questioned it and I didn't want to be the one to test their reputation. Or worse, have it be Teyla who paid for _that_ mistake as Sheppard was now paying for another of mine.

We found a frozen picture like when the Lanteans paused their movies to take a call or a piss or something. Both McKay and Sheppard were on the ground, Sheppard sprawled face down more or less across McKay's lap. McKay was actually holding Sheppard's small gun and pointing it up at the three Satedans. It was wavering, but that could be just as much from how long he'd needed to point it as from any fear, and the shakiness wasn't enough to have my fellow Satedans lose their own measure of caution. Or for the one who'd done the shooting and the talking to lower his own.

Three guards approached the standoff as four others spreading out to question the witnesses. Teyla and I slowed our approach but continued forward, hands open and arms away from our bodies and empty of any weapons other than those we were born with. That didn't stop a couple of the guns being pointed our direction, although in drawing the guards' attention, we'd also drawn McKay's and I couldn't help but cringe to see him lower his aim and then let go of his.

Everyone present, though, seemed to know the power resided in the Guard, and with McKay's disarming, the decidedly non-Satedan gun was also lowered until the only one pointing weapons were the ones who should be. Until --

"Dex!"

McKay and the guards weren't the only ones to finally notice our arrival. Even when Velson turned, I could barely recognize him. Yeah, he'd been one of the youngest in our squad, had barely qualified even then and had been more concerned with being accepted than earning his right to be there. Once he'd been scrawny and almost too weak. I rather suspected the weakness had stayed, but there was nothing scrawny about him anymore and I didn't wonder that he'd gone to Kell for protection after everything was over, even if Velson had known what Kell had done. When the Wraith eventually came for Velson, he wasn't going to be able to run from them. He just might be able to provide enough food for two.

I was disgusted on too many levels to be able to talk.

Not so, Teyla.

"May I see to my friends?" she asked the guards with the proper measure of deference and defiance, as a respectful equal instead of cringing and acting guilty in the face of their authority, and once again proving why she was better than even Sheppard when dealing with strangers.

A nod, and one of them trailed along beside her. I managed to stop myself from following; Teyla could look after herself and I didn't need to give any more reason for anyone to do something stupid.

"Rodney, are you injured?"

I could see some blood staining the hand that was holding Sheppard against him, but there wasn't too much spilling out onto the dirt underneath them. I was beginning to think that Sheppard's vest had done its job at least in part, but didn't know if the blood was because of a larger impact than it could block, or because of something that had still been able to penetrate its inner protective plating. The weapon Velson was holding was completely unfamiliar to me.

I could also see that McKay wanted to complain and give in to his panic now that we were here, yet he only glanced once more toward Velson and the others before giving a shake of his head as Teyla knelt at his side. "He stepped in front of me when we saw the weapon, tried to move us both but there were other people around and that fucking idiot over there didn't seem to be able to aim any better than I can," McKay more or less whispered, but we were still all on an open circuit and so his words came to me clearly.

As well as to a couple of others. "They fired first?" the guard who had moved along with Teyla asked.

"I barely even got my weapon out," McKay said a lot more shrilly this time. "That… that trigger-happy… moron fired without any provocation whatsoever! No doubt if we hadn't turned, he would have simply fired on our backs like the fucking coward --"

"I claim bloodfeud and Satedan vengeance rights," Velson interrupted.

"And I claimed it right back!"

The one guard looked pained, all the more so when Teyla was successful in getting McKay to let her turn Sheppard and see that he was indeed alive and aware enough that he was stilled holding onto the weapon he'd covered with his own body. Blood covered both gun and hand, but his hand was still as steady as the smirk he gave Velson before he let Teyla pull the weapon away.

"It was a good thing you were a good cook," I couldn't help but respond with to Velson's cries of dismay to see Sheppard still among the living. "But it seems you've forgotten you're not cooking for a squad any longer. You forget how to share?" There were none of the scientists on Atlantis, not even McKay, with as much extra body weight as Velson now carried, and for a soldier, there was no excuse.

"Don't speak of the Squad, Oathbreaker," Velson hissed back. "You have profaned us all with your betrayal."

"Kell betrayed not just Squad, but Home," I snarled right back. "He betrayed us to the Wraith and fled in the face of his cowardice, striking down mates to insure his own escape."

"You lie --"

"Maybe, maybe not," the lead guard interrupted as he rose back to his feet and then helped Teyla to hers as she'd finished binding Sheppard's wound. "Word against word is not proof, but vengeance rights are acknowledged here. You," pointing to me, "are accused of Oathbreaking and Stealing Life and Support. You," pointing then to Velson, "have been witnessed in the attempt of Stealing Life and Love. Both might be guilty, and so cannot earn freedom. Do any of you others claim their value?"

"What exactly do you mean?" Sheppard asked between gritted teeth, still on the ground and held within McKay's embrace, but now somewhat upright so he could better take in what was going on around him.

"Comru does not lock up lawbreakers, it is a waste of time and resources," the youngest of the Guard explained with the dull inflection of many repeatings. "Comru acknowledges that there are many worlds with many laws. Normally we would return you to your world of origin so that you might deal with this amongst yourselves, but all know of Sateda's fall, nor are you three --" gesturing to McKay and Sheppard, and then Telya, "Satedan. You have been identified as Lanteans, but we do not know your world and, therefore, it is up to Comru to arbitrate the claims. Either side may forfeit claim and turn your man over to service to Comru. For such crimes as Stealing Life, life in return will be traded. Or you may both dispute and earn freedom for one."

"I will never forfeit!" Velson shrieked.

Both of the guards who had spoken turned to McKay.

"Wronged parties here," he snapped back and unconsciously drew Sheppard tighter until that invoked a protest cut off by coughing. "We're not forfeiting any of our rights."

"Then you will fight for him?" another guard pointed finger my direction.

"Fight?" McKay squeaked, even as Sheppard protested with a "Hell, no --"

I didn't blame Sheppard for refusing; this should have been my business alone, and if I could not fight for myself, I would rather forfeit my life to service or death than allow McKay to be placed in danger. Maybe if it had been against Velson, but he too stood accused and so it would be one of the others who would have to stand for him, any of which even I would have a hard time of defeating.

Except Sheppard wasn't overriding McKay and forfeiting me. "If anyone is going to have to fight --"

"I will fight for Ronon Dex," Teyla took control before Sheppard could do anything even more foolish than attempting to get away from McKay and try to stand up with a belly wound.

"Teyla --"

"She has Claimed," the young guard scowled, although not as fiercely as Sheppard. "It is done, Lantean."

"Must it be to the death?" one of the Satedans I didn't know asked.

The young guard looked to the first of his fellows who had spoken, who shook his head. "Although your accusation is of Stealing Life, we have no body and yours is the only transgression we can prove. First rights, therefore are the Lanteans."

"If it's not to the death, what happens to the loser?" McKay asked with a steadier gaze than I'd expected as he realized that in being the accuser for the Lanteans, it would be his decision as to how far the fight would have to go. "And what are my options for types of fights? I don't suppose we'd all be happy with first blood?"

"First blood is insufficient payment for the people of Comru whose time, lives and livelihood have been disrupted on this day. It must be until one cannot fight any longer, either through unconsciousness or death."

"So I guess that means arm wrestling is out," McKay muttered.

"The loser of the fight will suffer nothing more than the injuries he or she sustains in the conflict. The one who has then lost freedom will forfeit a year and a day in service to Comru as penalty for bringing your crimes here, in addition to forfeit of the claim, of course."

Sheppard still didn't look all too happy as he first took in Teyla and then my acceptance but he gave the barest of nods against McKay's chest and tightened his grip around the arm holding him upright in a squeezed signal of silent agreement to McKay.

"Okay, fine. Not to the death," McKay accepted. "And I expect that you're going to need to take the claimants and the accused with you, but maybe the rest of us could get out of the middle of the street?"

"We are still awaiting confirmation of Satedan's claiming," the young guard looked toward Velson and his two companions.

"I will fight for Velson and Sateda."

"Only the accused need come with us now," the first guard said briskly. "Check any of the arena schedules for the fight time, I imagine we'll be able to fit you in tonight, but I want to make sure that you're given access to the one of the main arenas as you deserve the crowd." To my surprise he then moved over toward Sheppard again, and helped Teyla get him to his feet.

"There is a healer's tent two streets over," he then informed Teyla. "It's blue with gold ribbons proclaiming her trade. If you must stay the night, look for a building with green paint outlining a sign with a square hole in its middle. They hold better beds and will give you privacy so that you might be able to prepare for the coming battle without interruption."

"We thank you," she tilted her head and then nodded gravely to him before sending a cool look my direction.

I couldn't offer her guilt for what I had done, but I didn't turn from or attempt to deflect the disappointment in her eyes either. I had done what honor and loyalty had demanded then, and would do what they demanded now, regardless of the final outcome. I had a moment's wonder that even if Teyla won and I retained my freedom, I might need to stay on Comru or go somewhere else that is not Atlantis. Having to leave would hurt more than I thought anything else ever would again in my life, but was still the better price to pay over losing one of them.

The guard confiscated my gun and my sword, but didn't bother yet stripping me of other belongings, including the radio I still wore, which allowed me to listen in to the others as I was drawn away with Velson.

"Teyla, I need to you go back and let Weir know what's going on," Sheppard was saying, his voice still strained but not as bad as I've heard it when he's been injured before. "Save the specific details, but you had better mention your impending fight. Tell her that I don't want a back-up team coming into town right now, but would appreciate one on standby at the gate just in case things don't go as they should. We've not found anything that would suggest the people here have technology that can penetrate a jumper's cloak or block our comm devices, so they can just hide out unless we call for them."

"We need to get you back to Carson," came from McKay.

"We don't know how much time we really have and I'm not going to leave Ronon here with an automatic forfeit. That might mean a lifetime of service instead of the year and the day if Teyla doesn't show up."

"But --"

"But nothing, McKay. My vest deflected the actual bullet; I guess it just tore up one of the buckles or something that did the actual puncturing -- besides giving a kick like a mule, of course. I'm stiff, and my whole side hurts like a bitch, but I'm not in any danger of bleeding out. We'll see this through and then see if we have to take any more action before we all go home."

I wanted to caution them from trying (planning!) to free me if Teyla loses; I could only imagine there were also penalties and payment for overtly defying Comru judgments. Stealing of Justice or something like that. But even just warning them might be accusation enough, plus it would get my radio taken that much quicker, and I hoped to have it long enough to have confirmed that Sheppard was damaged only a little as he was claiming.

I gave a cough just to remind them that we were all still openly connected and then dipped my chin when that also got me my personal guard's attention. "What type of service do you guys generally demand for a year and a day?" I asked of him. I'd earned the biggest of the seven, although a third man was walking behind and between the distance Velson and I, although with our private guard were keeping of one another.

"Someone like you would probably be recruited for the Guard like us, or maybe even a personal bodyguard for one of the Trade Council. Him?" with a nod Velson's direction. "You said he was a good cook. There are a lot of important people who would appreciate a good cook."

"I could pass my time as a Guard," I agreed, although I still spoke mainly for Sheppard and the team's benefit. I really didn't want them to endanger themselves any more for me.

"Yeah, but only on _my_ team," I heard Sheppard's fierce, possessive whisper coming right back. "And don't you be giving up on Teyla quite so soon anyway," he then admonished me with that weird tone he sometimes got. "I've seen her kick _your_ ass before."

Only when we were both drugged out on Ford's stupid Wraith enzyme, but yeah, the two of us had never really fought for real before then, and even though it had all been foreplay for me, maybe for her our sparring while being drugged was a better indication of how she'd fight me hand-to-hand if we were enemies. I'd shot her and Sheppard both when I'd first run across them, never giving either of them any chance to show me what they could do under life or death conditions. I had tremendous strength and size on them, but they were both faster and more flexible, not to mention sneakier. Teyla took her stick-fighting seriously, but against friends she still held back, as evidenced with how easily she'd dispatched the convicts when we were escaping from Olesia. She beat Sheppard regularly in their training matches, just as I did in our own hand-to-hand matches, but I still had a feeling I'd never seen him deadly serious outside of when he'd held a gun in his hand.

"You guys can make sure she'll have a few hours to get ready and to assure herself that Sheppard's alright, right?" was the only other thing I could think of to ask of the guard for my squad's benefit.

The guard I'd decided had to be this team's leader turned his head back in my direction and nodded before speaking in tones I hoped were loud enough to be overheard. "Pretty lady like that, I'm going to make sure I've got myself a good seat to watch from, and I'm on call through dinner. She'll have the time she'll need, but not so much that she might get too fretful."

"You don't sound very impartial to me," Velson suddenly complained with a whine even more grating than McKay's. "You're all supposed to be impartial. Comru is neutral ground--"

"I'm partial to pretty ladies, Satedan. I have no care about the outcome of your accusations other than being glad that she's not going to have to kill or be killed. But since you have asked, I do think you're a coward for not taking him on directly," he nodded my way. "Blood feuds shouldn't involve collateral."

 

**Now**

Dinner had passed. In addition to better food than I would have expected to get while being held prisoner, I was also given the timing of my final judgment and told I would be attending instead of having to wait here for word. I guess major crimes really weren't all that common here on Comru, because as promised, Teyla's match against Velson's supporter was slotted for this evening, and if this wasn't one of the main arenas, I didn't want to see one that might be considered more important. Sateda had been one of the more prosperous and prolific of worlds before its destruction, the great city built around the Circle of the Ancestors, but there had been others nearly as large and filled with many more people than I'd seen anywhere else in all of my travels. The arena here on Comru could have easily held a third of the great city's population, and the guards who still watched over me implied there were _four_ more like this.

I was escorted to one of the seats just above the sand, one of the more coveted ones going by the manner and dress of those who were seated nearby. I actually couldn't make out Velson in a crowd of what had to be a thousand or more people, but I was told he would be brought to the opposite side, just as his champion and Teyla would be entering the arena floor from opposite sides. I was surprised and more than a little grateful to see that Sheppard and McKay were being brought toward me, but I guess that made sense as it was actually McKay who was the accuser against Velson. _Two_ claims were being settled here.

Neither was armed, at least not visibly, and they didn't wear their tack vests, but one of the escorts was carrying them, while another held a box that I assumed contained their guns. No matter the outcome, they and Teyla would be free to leave when the battle was over, and I rather suspected the guards were assuming we/they would be and so having their supplies on hand would just expedite departure. While he didn't look completely relaxed, Sheppard was no longer pale, nor did his face carry the deep signs of pain that it had when we'd parted. McKay's still visible agitation was more born of anticipation and disgust, I was thinking, than like his earlier out and out panic. Both were also wearing spare shirts from their packs, since both of them had gotten stained by Sheppard's blood. (We'd intended from the beginning to stay overnight had Comru not been recently culled, and so at least there would be no payment wasted to repay a bounty from our 'hosts'.)

I knew they were scrutinizing me as closely as I had them, although only McKay was obvious about it. But I'd been fed and even given a chance to wash more than just my face and hands, and so bore no signs of any ill treatment. Comru's justice was swift, impartial and, yeah, I'd have to say fair at least from what I'd seen so far.

"Is everything okay back home?" I had to ask when we took our seats. The one thing I still didn't know was whether Teyla had actually shown up for fight.

"Mom's not really happy, but she's even agreed to let us stay after this is over, assuming we don't need to get Teyla back right away," Sheppard offered, automatically leaning forward a bit so we might meet each other's gaze since we'd automatically put McKay between us. That cost him a grimace and a low growl, as well as a tisk from McKay before the scientist was shooing Sheppard back to lessen the strain on his wound.

I shot him a raised a brow, one I thought worthy of the same type of skepticism Sheppard liked to throw my way when I ignored my own injuries.

"We really didn't get much of a chance to explore, and this is a hell of a place to just give up on because of a little trouble," he shrugged when it was McKay that folded inward enough that we could again meet each other's gaze. "Even if there are others from Sateda out there, word of this … these accusations have spread like wildfire, and we've been repeatedly assured this will be the end of it one way or the other. Someone else makes a claim against you or takes action against any of us and they're to be summarily shot with no recrimination, although I think the Guard are assuming they will be the ones doing the shooting. Same if we do anything against the other guy's people, of course, but…" He shrugged again with a bit of fidgeting following the initial movement.

"It appears that the drugs they have here are almost as good as the ones Carson holds out with," McKay said with a mix of acerbity and amusement as we both observed Sheppard trying to find a comfortable position. "We've had time to nap and look at things that made pretty colors, as well as being fed remarkably well. I guess the coin of this level of entertainment goes a long way here."

"I assure you, Rodney, I would have been napping with only the comfort you gave me," Sheppard sniggered from his seat before McKay had a chance to launch into another rant about the barbarism of said entertainment, which had been the last thing I'd heard from the others before my radio had been taken away earlier. Sheppard then laughed more outright at how quickly and deeply McKay turned red, even as it brought more lines back into his face.

The rule was no sex during a mission, even on the ones to uninhabited worlds. I guess I wasn't the only one skirting the rules today.

Before McKay or I had any chance to respond, the lights around the arena dimmed and others flared to life to illuminate just the sandy floor below us.

"You know, this looks remarkably like Husky Stadium," Sheppard remarked as the crowd noise began to rise again when nothing else immediately happened. "Okay, that's only a lake out there, and the mountains can't begin to compete with any of the Olympic range, much less Mt. Rainier, but it's remarkable similar for their version of football being some sort of gladiatorial blood sport. Did you know that Husky Stadium is annually voted the prettiest stadium in the entire country?"

Since McKay professed to know less about football than I'd learned in my time with them, I could only conclude that Sheppard was talking strictly to hear himself do so at the moment, and had to agree that the drugs he'd been given from the local healers were indeed 'good', since babbling was a McKay trait when nervous, not a Sheppard one.

"You're presuming that either of us -- that anyone within bloody earshot -- actually cares, Colonial," McKay growled even as his hands began the usual flutter, but then I decided he was only trying to capture one of Sheppard's that was deciding to take advantage of our darkened surroundings. "Just hold -- not that!" McKay suddenly squeaked.

It wasn't appropriate behavior to the mission or to the seriousness of what we were about to have to witness, but Sheppard abruptly caught my eye just before the lights around us darkened completely and flashed me a look that was then directed toward their vests, one that was neither horny nor nearly as drug-relaxed as he'd been presenting before. Suddenly I wasn't sure how much had been misdirection for the sake of McKay's nerves, how much might have been subterfuge for the guards surrounding us, and how much was actually real. He'd made it very clear that he understood the consequences of what would happen if he acted against the guards or disputed the outcome, but then just because McKay had directed that this not be a fight to the death, that didn't mean that the other side had to abide by it.

I shook my head sharply and berated myself silently. I'd been assuming Satedan honor, not only my own strict interpretation of it, but also _relying_ on it when I'd already had proof that not all of us were honorable, first in Kell's actions during the Wraith culling, and now in Velson's in attacking Sheppard instead of myself. The fighter who was now coming out at a speaker's words was not someone I knew, his squad markings ones I recognized, but coming from one of the other cities. He, too, carried the added mark of a specialist, but that didn't necessarily mean tracker as mine had; it could just as easily mean interrogator or assassin given that each Battle Master created his own marks for his many squads. And I truly knew _nothing_ about the nature of his relationship to Velson, nor if his initial question before agreeing to champion Velson had been because he wouldn't have done so if it had been a death match, or if he would have preferred it that way.

I'd been told there would be a team on standby, on-world and in a cloaked jumper. I could only interpret now that Sheppard was also prepared to interfere in the fight if something went contrary, and that he was expecting me to go for one of the radios and call for the backup since the division of duties the other way would automatically result in me being shot. Implied, also, was my defense of McKay, with my own life if necessary, but that was honor and duty too, one now of much higher priority than any remnants I might still cling to for a dead people and a dead world.

I raised my arm to rest it across McKay's shoulders, drawing him just a little closer into the radius of my body, but still stretched out far enough to also squeeze Sheppard's shoulder with my fingers. We'd been together long enough, often enough for touch to be able to convey a wealth of communication. McKay didn't pull back away despite normally being skittish of any closeness out in public, and it was his hand that covered mine on Sheppard's shoulder, before Sheppard covered both of ours.

Messages received.

Plan understood.

And then Teyla was introduced, the crimes read, the challenge set and the fight begun.

I have seen Teyla face down Marines as well as Wraith, face down Sheppard no less than she did me when she thought we were wrong. I have seen her fight dressed in the Lantean uniform and her Athosian garb, fight when fresh, fight when wounded, and fight when drugged. She has a beauty of inner strength in addition to an outside allure, and there are times I think that just about everyone on Atlantis is a little bit in love with her, the women included, just as everyone is a little bit in love with Sheppard, even his Marines, just for the type of people that they are.

I suddenly do not want to see anything mar such magnificence, not even the faintest bruise, nor do I think I'm alone, from the sudden lack of sound throughout the entire arena, as if everyone has collectively caught their breath at their sight of her. But to do something now is to potentially forfeit more than my own life, and in another few seconds there is no time or opportunity regardless.

As challenger, McKay had first rights to determine the parameters of the match, but I guess that meant that the _challenged_ got to choose the actual type of combat. My mind has definitely been off today, for I had been imagining hand-to-hand without having any information to support such a conclusion. But that would have been ugly, brutal and more likely something that would end too soon to be called entertainment in looking at the differences between them. Instead, they have been given staffs, slender and almost as tall as she is.

Better than knives or swords, of course, because even a blocked blade can do damage, and it is easy to launch a strike to a vital area even when proscribed, with no time for the Marshal to do anything but penalize the rogue for his violation. Teyla is even proficient with a battle staff; she and I have practiced with such weapons on Atlantis despite her preference for Athosian Fighting Sticks.

Unfortunately, this form of fighting was very common on Sateda, and it was in fact something to specialize in. I can see from how Velson's man handles the one he is given, that he just might be one who had. I manage to stop my groan lest I scare McKay, but I still give Sheppard's shoulder another squeeze in warning.

At least in this form of combat, it will be less likely for him to land one single killing blow, and any blows to a repeated location should render her unconscious or unable to continue the fight before they will kill her.

Velson's man may not be a Specialist in staff combat, but he is proficient enough, and the only reason it isn't over within the first few minutes is either because he's decided to throw or prolong it purposefully. Or maybe he has no more desire to see her bruised than any of the rest of us. What he does, instead, is hammer at her weapon as an alternative to hammering against her body, trying to use his strength to either overwhelm or tire her. In return she starts aiming for his fingers, until she actually manages to connect with his left ones and he's suddenly only able to maintain his grip one-handed.

This, however, he proves adept at too, and abruptly he's got three times the reach that she does as well as now being able to come closer to matching her speed. The trade-off is a loss of some of his control and strength, but that also has him changing his target now to her shoulders and legs.

McKay is near hyperventilating in his anxiety, and is leaning into my body although I cannot feel that he's actually gone so far as to hide his face. Under my fingers I can also feel Sheppard's tension mounting throughout his body, but then so is mine. I have to remind myself sometimes to breathe. This is so much worse than fighting myself, not because she's the one responsible for my own freedom, but because I am not worthy of the effort she is expending. Again I want only to stop things and would gladly pay my entire lifetime of freedom to spare her injury, but this has gone on so long that the reason behind the battle is no longer the point.

We are witnessing art as well as violence. While only some of the audience may be submerging within their _baser_ lusts, the hew and cry were it to end before completion would only inspire chaos and rioting in all.

Hair and cloth lie sweat-plastered against their bodies, but of course this only makes the both of them, Teyla especially, all the more enticing to the crowd. Both, too, are bruised and bleeding, although neither has penetrated the other's guard often enough to do significant damage to anything other than strength and stamina. Unfortunately, if that is what it will ultimately come down to, I'd best prepare myself to a year and a day of servitude, for no matter how skilled or strong the woman; she cannot overcome someone who is nearly a foot taller and more than a hundred pounds heavier than she in a straight match of blow against blow.

Sheppard has now moved forward enough in his seat that I can no longer touch him, any discomfort in this subsumed to his hyperawareness. I don't know if he's actually seen something that has put him on alert, or is simply so engrossed that he feels the need to move closer and has actually forgotten about his injury. Indeed, there is little movement around us at all as well as near utter silence, only the occasional stuttered breath and gasp or explosive release of air in response to the display we're being gifted.

When it comes, the sound of the break is near overwhelming and produces more than one shrill scream. For a moment I look frantically to see who is suddenly so damaged, before realizing that it wasn't bone, but wood that snapped. The man's staff is suddenly in two pieces. As he throws them to the ground, he is also rushing forward, bent low to take advantage of Teyla's sudden loss of resistance against her and, therefore, her balance. He's misjudged it, though. In trying to fold her over and slam her down, he hasn't realized she still has one foot in position to push off the ground. Teyla uses that little push and her own abrupt forward momentum to roll _over_ him. Even as she's tucking her body, she throws her staff away as it is as much a liability to her as to him in this position. By using most of her remaining strength, she is able to skim it across the floor, thus depriving him of its use as well.

Unless he actually tries to run across a hundred or so yards to regain it.

No or, at least, not yet.

They have landed in each other's positions, backs turned to one another as they both regain their feet. Another instant and they are both pivoting almost as if they have synchronized their moves. Again he rushes to try and overpower her with his bulk and again she evades. McKay is showing less panic at this change, moving away from where he'd tucked his head against my chest, obviously not realizing that the danger to Teyla of sustaining serious injury is now greater.

But maybe I've underestimated them both, because on the next crash toward one another, Teyla doesn't give way. Instead she pulls her weight back onto one leg while spinning and lifting her other in a perfect kick. The Satedan is the one who is folding over, all breath lost. Yet he moves quickly back to his feet and is changing tactics once more. Now he is moving to strike at her with his hands, arms and feet. She matches him for long seconds, forearm, wrist, calf, forearm again, blocking only, but with a speed and grace that is breathtaking.

I begin to smile as McKay's sudden excitement is contagious, only to berate myself in the next moment for jinxing her. One of his blows gets through, hard enough to toss her away as well as back, and the silence of the arena is beginning to fall to not only gasps, but some shouts of encouragement as favor changes to support the one who appears now to have won. McKay's "No!" is still loud enough to draw a few heads our way. Sheppard's much quieter and just as heart-felt "Shit!" more matches my own thoughts.

Except all three of us are wrong, too premature, because where Teyla's been thrown is where the two pieces of the staff lie, and by the time she rises with both of them in hand, the fight is over although probably only the four of us have realized it.

It takes only two more clashes for Teyla to have him folding over again from a blow to the stomach, and then dropping from a forearm _and_ stick across his back. I'm not completely sure he is actually unconscious, but neither is he moving to get up. I might have wanted her to make sure, but Teyla backs away warily and simply stands there, regaining her breath and waiting.

This time another "No!" is heard in the new round of charged and astounded silence, and I have no doubt that it has come from Velson. I stand with a roar of Teyla's name, celebrating not my freedom and vindication, but her victory. Within moments I am joined by almost everyone in proclaiming her superiority.

She waits motionless, although I can see her draw some strength from the thundering of her name, and she straightens her back as if disregarding her own hurts and fatigue while remaining loose enough to counter something should her opponent be setting her up.

Except that it really is over, as the next movement on the floor is from the Marshal and a handful of Guard who offer succor, acknowledgement and escort.

"Well then, I guess we know whose turn it is this time," McKay said with a dirty grin that threatened to split his face.

"Hey, I'm the one who was nearly imprisoned for a year," I protested.

"And I'm the one who fucking got shot!"

"Yes, but she's the one who can kick_ all_ of our fucking asses," McKay pointed out. "And so I'm thinking she's the one who should also get do decide who exactly is fucking which ass. If we're not careful, it just might be one of ours with one of her fucking sticks!"

Now that was something I might just be willing to try. From the sound of Sheppard's sudden intake of breath, I'm thinking I'm not be the only one who might be up for that, although definitely not something to try on a night with all of us quite so pumped up with adrenalin.

No, tonight is for gentleness. For something maybe not even including sex, save for soft kisses and soothing touches. We'd come too close again, had survived only by the luck and good graces of each other, which is a thing of quiet celebration more than a frantic one.

I suddenly remembered another one of Comru's past delights and turned to ask my one-time jailor if its reputation for amazing baths was still well-deserved.

Finis.


End file.
